Kira Ford's Pregnancy Blog
by jjdpseattle
Summary: 18 & over only 26 year old Kira Ford is knocked up, happy as a flippin' nut job, and ready for whatever the next 9 months will bring! If only she knew it was going to be equal parts baby cuteness and embarrassing moments involving pregnancy-induced flatulence, she probably would have smiled a little less often... A/N These entries are in no particular order
1. Chapter 1: Finding out

I took a pregnancy test and it says...

I'M PREGNANT!

Its so nice to see that word.. no lines to interpret, just that one little word. How can it contain such joy? And such fear?

Needless to say I didn't sleep at all last night.. Poor Trent, I kept waking him up with all my tossing and turning and asking him "How can you sleep? We are PREGNANT!"

Then I rushed off this morning to RMA for a Beta. I won't know the results until late this afternoon, which makes for a very very long day.

 _I do want to go back to yesterday though._

I came home from acupuncture expecting some sort of romantic greeting (flowers would have been nice honey) and instead Trent is sitting on the couch with his laptop on his lap and doesn't even get up to hug me.

When I was like "Uh, hello? I'm pregnant, can I get a little celebratory reaction here?" he kept saying that he wouldn't believe it until the doctor said it was true.. he was half joking, but not really. He doesn't know/understand the accuracy of HPTs, what the hell a Beta is, why it needs to double, he's just so in the dark that I think he's scared to be excited too soon.

So all in all, there was no tender "you're going to be a daddy" hallmark moment for me.

 _Back to the present.._

I am really not feeling many symptoms at all. Some random tightening cramps, constipation of course and increased appetite (already?). I ate two eggs for breakfast this morning and I normally barely eat breakfast. Then, by 10:30 I was starving.

But in general, I am the happiest I've ever been.. not in a giddy sort of way, but in a "I have the best secret in the world" sort of way.

Next steps?

1 )Wait for Beta this afternoon.

2) Pray for Beta to double over the weekend and go back for 2nd Beta Monday.

3) Learn about pregnancy. Seriously, I know about as much as an RE about infertility, but when it comes to actually being pregnant? I'm like a fish out of water.


	2. Chapter 2: The 1st ultrasound

WARNING: 18 & OVER ONLY

Yesterday was an exciting day, it was my first ultrasound!

Trent has never been to my RE. Ever. So he sort of surprised me the day before saying he wanted to come just in case god forbid everything wasn't O.K. in there.

When we got into the ultrasound room and Trent saw the "wand" and realized it was going to be a vaginal and not abdominal ultrasound he just about passed out. Thanks, Dr. A$$hole, he's going to be a lot of help during childbirth.

The doctor came in and declared that I was pregnant with a healthy looking blob.

Yay, we have a little blob! I told Trent it kind of looked like him :) We've taken to calling it our "blobby" instead of baby.

Dr. A$$hole asked me when I wanted to come in again next week. I decided to wait until the latter part of the week so that we have a better chance of seeing a heartbeat. So my next ultrasound is June 20th. A strong heartbeat will be the best birthday present Trent will ever get!

Later I got the call from the nurse that my Beta HCG level was up to 3388 (this would be 22dpIUI), which is a doubling time of about 40.5 hours. The average beta reported on .info for that day is 2247, so I'm pretty happy with that number.

My progesterone is only at about 28, which seems a bit low to me, but the nurse said all the numbers were great, so I'm not going to worry (for once!)


	3. Chapter 3: 26 weeks

Dear Sweet Child,

I am your mother. You are in my belly, and will have been there for 26 weeks tomorrow. You are still very small, but I can feel you kicking every day. Some days, you kick more than others. When you are quiet, I worry there is something wrong – I hope you are just sleeping soundly, oblivious to my worry.

I have always been a savory kind of girl, crisps being my guilty pleasure, but I have more of an urge for sweet things these days, which according to the old wives' tales indicates that you are a girl, my little girl. I have a feeling you are a little girl too, because I had terrible morning sickness until 21 weeks, as did your grandmother, who had three girls. If you are a boy I will be equally as pleased, my little baby boy.

I hope and pray every day that you are healthy and will not come into this world with any difficulties. But if you do, I promise I will step up and face the challenges for your sake, to give you the best life.

Sometimes I feel a bit anxious about the prospect of being a mother and having responsibility for another life. I worry that I will fail you, that you won't be happy when you grow up, and it will in some way be my fault. After you are born, I am going to quit my job and try something new. The problem is that I don't know what that new thing is yet, but I want it to be something I'm passionate about because I want to be a good role model for you. I want my life to be more than just about you, so that you learn to be independent and follow your dreams as well. I hope that doesn't sound selfish. Believe me, I don't feel that way. For all I know, I may never find the thing I'm looking for, but I will continue trying for you.

I want you to know how much I love your father. We are lucky to have found each other, in school of all places – just pure luck. I hate to think we might have passed each other by. Your father is a good man with the best intentions. He is kind to me, patient and considerate. And so excited about meeting you. I think there was a lack of intimacy between him and his father, and I know he will do anything to avoid that with you.

I hope I still love your father as much when you read this as I do now. I hope he loves me too. Life can be unpredictable and cruel. I hope we are strong enough to keep our love strong. One thing I know is that we will both still be madly in love with you – unless you turn into a junkie or a murderer, but, well, maybe even then …

I wonder what you will think of me when you read this. As I write now, I have no idea when I will give this letter to you. Perhaps you will be 15 and hormonal and hate me, and wonder why your father ever married me. Perhaps you will be expecting a child of your own. Perhaps I will be dead.

All I know is that now I am just a girl, as your father is just a boy. We have experienced great moments of happiness with family and friends at parties, festivals, holidays, travelling & saving the world. We have those heartwarming Polaroid sunrise moments that you don't want to forget from wild nights with friends on balmy summer evenings, with our favorite bands playing in the background. We are young and carefree and wear trendy clothes and love music, and that's all about to change.

You will have many uncles & aunts...I will tell you why when you are in High School. You will have an awesome science teacher, who just so happens to have been your parents' science teacher & your Grandpa Anton & Grandma Elsa will spoil you rotten to the core.

I guess I just want you to know that we were young once and that we are full of character and passion and love for simple things. I think this is something that children can't quite grasp about their parents, I certainly couldn't with mine. I hope I am still the person I am today, but better and stronger and more open when you read this. I want you to know that I am so looking forward to meeting you, and that I want the change you will bring in my life. I hope you like me.

 _Sincerely,_

 _Mom_

 _P.S. Please, for the Love of God, STOP doing jumping jacks on my bladder & intestines!_


	4. Chapter 4: From Blobby to Baby!

The NT scan was absolutely amazing.. completely surreal that there is a tiny human being growing inside me. And unlike my last two ultrasounds where it was just a blob with a heartbeat, becoming-baby actually looks like a mini baby – fingers, toes, face, arms legs and everything!

The baby was moving around so much, waving, kicking, saluting us – you name it – that the radiologist was very relieved when she got the 4 or so still shots of the back of the neck from which to do the NT measurement. The result?

.8mm! Thats really good. She said anything over 1.4 is cause for concern, but I've read on the internet that up to 2 or even 3 is within normal range.

She also said she saw nasal bone, which is also an excellent indication that risk of down's is low. The bloodwork hasn't come back yet, so I won't know my official "risk" until next week when she puts in the measurements with the bloodwork and my OB calls me with the results, but at least this part of the hurdle is over.

Other information.. the heart rate is 162 bpm, the CRL measures the baby at 11 weeks 5 days, which is exactly where I am today. We also saw the kidneys, the brain and the bladder. Well, she saw it and pointed it out. Its amazing what you can see if you're trained to know what you're looking at…but even I can tell that the picture above looks like a baby. And a cute one at that!

She wasn't supposed to tell us anything, but she said it looks very good. We are so relieved and so grateful that as of now, it seems our baby is in perfectly good health. Thank god!


	5. Chapter 5: Last Anniversary before Baby

Its our 7 year anniversary today, and we're doing it up right with a little trip to a Castle. Luckily we have one right in our backyard in Blue Bay Harbor appropriately called "Castle on the Harbor."

Its the sort of extravagant thing we never ever do, but since all of our previous anniversaries consisted of a take out dinner we figured we are due for the splurge. At least my condition is an excellent excuse to forgo the Wine Pairing with Tasting menu (at $176 a person!) without looking cheap and choose instead the oh-so economical regular tasting menu (a more reasonable? $100 per person.)

Its jacket required for gentlemen, which clearly means I have to dress up too. Which may be a problem. None of my target-swimwear-as-maternity-clothes purchases will do for this occasion I'm afraid… What to wear?


	6. Chapter 6: Not smug just gassy

I was getting a sandwich the other day during a café's off-hours, and while waiting for my to-go order, I overheard a conversation between the (male) bartender and the (female) waitress.

 _(What? I'm sure some men identify as waitresses._ STOP GENDER STEREOTYPING. _Anyway.)_

 **Waitress:** Ugh, I can't stand all of these pregnant women I'm seeing on the street now. **Bartender:** Yeah. **Waitress:** They're so smug and self-satisfied. Like, I was walking my bike along the sidewalk and this woman gave me a look like I was going to sideswipe her, like I should have crossed the street just so she could waddle by. **Bartender:** Haha, right. **Waitress:** And they're always, like, fondling their stomachs in public. Stop touching your belly, it's weird!

This woman had just taken my order and must have noticed that I was pregnant, but I don't think she meant to offend me. I just think she was totally oblivious.

Don't worry, this is _not_ an angry post about how society attacks and vilifies pregnant women (because that's _not_ true). Nor is it a post about how, if you are walking your bike along a busy city street, then you might not have the firmest grasp on the basic concept of the bicycle (even though that _is_ true).

I'd just like to explain some things to the non-pregnant among us that might make them reconsider their judgments.

As a disclaimer, I'd like to acknowledge that some pregnant women ARE smug. These women express their smugness in different ways, but the common denominator is that they make the non-pregnant feel like they're missing out. Moreover, they seem to enjoy lording their fertility over others. These are often, but not always, the same women who refuse to acknowledge that there is anything remotely unpleasant or draining about motherhood. I wish them the very best, in the most eyeroll-y way.

I know that I can't speak for all pregnant women, but here are some so-called "smug" behaviors that, in my experience, are more than meets the eye:

 **THE PREGNANCY GLOW** Yeah, we're glowing. You know why? We're sweaty. The phrase "bun in the oven" is meant to be cute, but it is also literal. As pregnancy progresses, the uterus morphs into an internal hot water bottle filled with a baby that feels like it's made out of burning coals. In my case, a close inspection of the "glow" would reveal an impressive case of adult acne covered haphazardly by bronzer.

 **THE BEATIFIC SMILE** This is gas. We're trying to distract you with our glow while we surreptitiously fart.

 **THE PUBLIC BELLY TOUCHING** I'm sure some women rub their bellies just because they can, or because they want to call attention to the fact that they are pregnant, possibly to get a seat on public transportation. But most women touch their bellies because _there is something moving in there_. Probably kicking us hard from the inside. Remember _Alien_? John Hurt touched his stomach, didn't he? So stop fucking judging, asshole, and be glad your burrito doesn't have knees.

 **THE INCESSANT PREGNANCY TALK** See above. If a person was inside your body, making you sweat and fart and playing Twister-like games with your organs, wouldn't _you_ want to tell someone? And trust me, the 911 operator does not care.

I hope that list helps. Oh, and one more thing—WE are jealous of YOU.

Yeah, you. You with your cinched waists and your cute 4-inch wedge high heels and your spicy tuna rolls and your ability to ride (or walk) bicycles, should you so choose. That blank, far-off stare you see? Sure, we might be meditating on which sitar songs to add to the mix CD for our upcoming water birth. We might also just be tired. But more than likely, we're just jonesing for your fucking margarita and trying to avoid direct eye contact lest we break down and beg.


	7. Chapter 7: Embarrassing Moment

There's no denying that pregnancy is not all sunshine and rainbows. In fact, between heartburn, hemorrhoids, and indigestion, it can be a bit more of a rain storm at times.

And that storm sometimes brings embarrassing moments. Super embarrassing moments.

Like the time _I pissed my pants at work._

Oh yeah, I said it. I pissed my pants at my **office**.

How did I manage that you ask? I honestly have no idea. I had literally just been to the bathroom and was standing in the kitchen when – GASP! – I felt something trickle down my leg. A lot of something.

Thank God I was wearing a skirt and I was ALONE. I grabbed a bunch of paper towels and booked it back to my office, shutting the door behind me. What to do? What to do?

I didn't have much choice. I stripped off my panties and chucked them in the trash. Don't worry; I rolled them up in a magazine so the cleaning crew wouldn't see (or be exposed to them.) My apologies to _Fit Pregnancy._

So there I was – panty-less. I went commando for the rest of the day. Luckily, there was only a few hours left in the day as it was not something I'd ever imagined I would do at **my job**.

I then walked back to the restroom and cleaned up my legs and shoes. I said a little of prayer of appreciation that it didn't get on the kitchen floor and proceeded to argue internally with myself. WHAT THE DEUCE just happened? How did I just piss myself?

At the time, I was SO embarrassed. I called Trent and Elsa and made them swear no one else would ever hear of this dreadful occurrence. Ironic isn't it that I'm now telling all bazillion of you?


	8. Chapter 8: My Pregnancy Symptoms

Here are all of the symptoms I have had since I got pregnant:

I've had hot flashes, was dizzy at times, felt warm all the time, I've been tired often, and I've had strange pregnancy dreams, abdominal cramping, and I've had soreness of the breasts on the sides. Also, I've had MAJOR flatulence! In other words, it's not fun cooking a baby.


	9. Chapter 9: I HATE being pregnant!

There's this romanticized idea of what pregnancy is or should be like for expectant mothers. Women are supposed to be mesmerized by the miracle taking place inside them, so totally in love with the changes their bodies are undergoing and grateful for the opportunity to nurture and bring forth new life into this world that they can hardly contain their elation. Anyone who doesn't subscribe to this philosophy is somehow off. She is not thankful for the blessing that is having a child. There is something Not Motherly Enough about her. Something terribly, terribly wrong.

Well, guess what? I hate being pregnant. I'm making no apologies for that. And I'm guessing I'm not alone.

I suppose I should marvel at the wonder of new life growing inside me, for it is quite a miraculous phenomenon, but I can't seem to stop feeling like shit long enough to really get my thinkbox into the whole thing.

While other women are "glowing" (whatever the fuck that means), I'm sweating like a cow in a heat wave.

While other women claim to "have never felt better," I'm begging my husband to mercy kill me with a pillow so I don't have to endure one more date with my toilet.

While other women are celebrating their "bumps" (more like a fucking collection of 12 pound bowling balls strapped to my midsection), I'm cursing that damn thing for making turning over in bed a 3 day venture.

While other women are peacefully practicing their Kegels in anticipation of the glorious day they welcome their precious marvels into the world, I'm rocking football sized labia and shoving frozen condoms down my underpants.

While other women are embracing their roles as life givers, I'm over here feeling like donkey shit and counting down the minutes until I can walk through the grocery store without throwing up in my mouth and poop without straining again.

Society expects women with child to fawn over their growing babies with tenderness and excitement, but I'm here to tell you, the only thing good about pregnancy to me is the baby you get to enjoy post-delivery. I do not enjoy the morning sickness. I am not into the achy joints and abdominal cramps. I do not welcome the swelling and obnoxious weight gain. I can not stand the smelly discharge and gassy intestines. I do not like the constant feeling of general malaise. I am not happy about the saucer sized nipples and unsightly stretch marks. And I especially do not appreciate getting sliced halfway open, having my innards removed from my body, and then suffering from excruciating surgical pain for the next 1-3 weeks.

Does this mean I am not grateful for the ease with which I am able to conceive and bring a life into this world? No. Does it mean I don't empathize with women whose journeys toward motherhood are rife with difficulty or impossibility? Absolutely not. Does it mean I am somehow less of a mother or don't love my children as much as other women? Of course not.

It simply means I (and women everywhere) should not be expected to relish all that goes into creating life, especially when that process is nowhere near as easy or as uneventful and healthy for us as it is for our counterparts. It means it's OK not to be overcome with awe and astonishment at the miracle of life every second of every day. It means we women are allowed to bemoan and complain and gripe about our circumstances freely and without judgment. It means we love our kids as much as the next person and are beyond grateful for the opportunity to bring them into our lives; we just aren't 100% in love with what it takes to get them here. It means we won't apologize for hating pregnancy. And it means we can't wait for our little bundles to get here.

Literally. We can't fucking wait until this nightmare is behind us.


	10. Chapter 10: Dino-Baby?

Guys, I have good news and I have bad news:

The bad news is that I will **_not_** , in fact, be giving birth to a Dino-Baby! So I can stop worrying about my Dino Gem-infused DNA giving my spawn that ear-bleeding Ptera-Scream...

Good news: I am pregnant with...a very healthy little…(drumroll)…boy!

A boy? Seriously?

I have absolutely no idea how that's going to end up considering I still don't understand grown men with that particular body part (scrambled eggs don't belong on pizza OR cheeseburgers, Trent). But I'm going to be super excited about having a son until the first time he pisses in my face when I'm trying to change his fucking diaper.

I just wanted to share the good (or bad if you were REALLY hoping for a Dino-Baby…sorry, Trent…maybe next time, honey) news with you.

(Or at least with the one of you that actually cares…hi mom *waves enthusiastically*).


	11. Chapter 11: Perks of Pregnancy

10\. People will always insist you sit down. Your mom, your significant other, your co-workers. Even the 98-year-old man with scoliosis on the subway will get up and insist you sit down. Already sitting down? No worries. They will then insist that you lie down. Being pregnant, it is practically your JOB to be lazy. That is, unless you listen to "some" people who will insist you stay physically active. But "those" people are doctors and are stupid and also don't think fried pickles are a good idea for breakfast.

9\. Everyone will also always insist you are beautiful. Family, friends, strangers, your creepy neighbor who you now suspect has some kind of weird pregnant lady fetish. Everyone will feel the need to go out of their way to tell you how beautiful you are, you beautiful sacred vessel you. Because apparently while all you see in the mirror is a sweating, farting, fatty mcfatterson in sweatpants who isn't wearing any makeup & has Medusa hair, everyone else sees a glowing goddess. Just go with it.

8\. Thanks to your nausea, you always get to pick the restaurant because the list of places that don't make you want to puke is shorter than the list of places that do.

7\. Laying on the couch all day in your pajamas while eating chicken wings dipped in guacamole and refusing to shower is no longer considered "sad" and "pathetic" but "good for you" because you're busy "creating a human being."

6\. Your boobs. Your boobs become…they're just…they're just so amazing, you guys. If you're anything like me, for the first time in your life, you will have Playboy Playmate boobies. And as such, you will stand in front of the mirror naked all the time in awe. I mean, you could KILL a MAN with these boobs if you really wanted to! They're that crazy BIG! So make sure to enjoy them as much as possible before your mean, selfish demon spawn exit the womb and ruin them forever.

5\. You can blame the baby for anything AND everything! In fact, you will say "the baby made me do it" no less than 417 times during your pregnancy.

4\. Being pregnant gives you the god-like power to name something. You, a mere puny human, get to determine what someone will be called for the rest of their life. Obviously, judging by the growing numbers of people named Periwinkle and Darth, too many parents let this power go to their head. But as they say, absolute power corrupts absolutely and hopefully little DragonZord Huddle will understand that someday when he's older.

3\. Want ice cream and a taco at 11 p.m.? Whoever knocked you up is pretty much legally required to go get them for you immediately. And not those tacos from that crappy joint down the street either. No, the good tacos from that place across town where the Blockbuster used to be.

2\. You finally have a legitimate excuse to buy those tiny, tiny adorable shoes that are always in the window of every fancy baby boutique. And also any and all tiny adorable baby hats that make infants look like animals.

1\. You pretty much get to live like a hobbit. You can eat breakfast, second breakfast and elevensies all before noon (or in some cases before 8 a.m.). You have a new determination to make your life as cozy as possible (Snuggie, Netflix, $60 worth of snacks? BOOM. You got a rockin' weekend). The TV remote is now your precious and anyone wanting to take it away from you is likely to get their finger bitten off, Gollum-style. And your feet swell up to comically large proportions (hairy toes also possibly included depending on your genetics).


	12. The Hardly Beautiful side of Pregnancy

I made myself a promise, you guys. A promise back months ago when I was lying sleepily in my husband's arms discussing expanding our little family. A promise that the next time I got pregnant I wouldn't complain. Not even a little bit. Because creating life is a beautiful thing. And I should be so lucky to get to experience it all again.

Needless to say, now I consider it a good day if I resist the impulse to set everyone and everything on fire.

And we're only on week 12.

But no. No, there I go being all negative again. I mean, I'm building a life, cell by cell! If you think about it, the way pregnancy changes your entire body, mind and soul really is an amazing expression of love. Some might say the ultimate expression of love.

I mean, pffft. Who can complain in the face of something that powerful?

It's just these constant headaches, you know? And the puking. Oi, so much puking. Not just nausea but full-on "The Exorcist" re-enactments (complete with the colorful language). I never had that with my first born. They say that every pregnancy is different. But my suspicion is that they say this because they're too polite to say the truth (that truth, of course, being that every pregnancy sucks, but each one sucks in its own unique way).

And this one sucks in that "I wake up every morning feeling like I have the flu AND a hangover" way.

But no, no. The whole process really is miraculous. I need to remember that. A mere nine months of some discomfort in exchange for a perfect tiny creature with your eyes and his mouth and tootsies so cute you just have to stuff 'em in your mouth or else die? Sounds like some pretty good math to me.

Then again, I always did get C's in algebra. I mean, do you know what it's like to have to pretend to be human when in actuality all you are at this point is a bloated walking ball of raging hormones and ginger ale? What it's like to have to interact with other humans when every time you sit down it's like you got hit by a tranquilizer dart? Like, people expect me to care about ridiculous things like deadlines and bills and basic hygiene when it's taking all my self-control not to curl up and fall asleep at their feet like some sad, hairless, always slightly sweaty dog.

Not to mention, when you say hello to me now, I can instantly tell you everything you ate and drank that day. It's the worst superpower ever.

But there I go again. Complaining. I mean, I got my wish. I'm pregnant! I wanted this with all my heart! Or at the very least, three-quarters of my heart! (The other quarter is still mourning the loss of my post-night-night time cocktail).

And just think of all the wonderful upsides to pregnancy. The gigantic boobs that spring up out of nowhere seemingly overnight. Eating steak for breakfast. The knowledge that you have a tiny Mesagog-esque tadpole/gummy bear hybrid growing inside you. The…um…well, I know I already mentioned the boobs, but seriously, they just become a work of art.

In fact, it almost makes up for all the bosom area soreness and tenderness you also experience. And the industrial strength farting. And the craving for half a gallon of milk even though your doctor told you to slow down with the first trimester weight gain because in all her years as an OB-GYN, your weight gain is, quote, "unprecedented."

And then there's the constipation & MAJOR FARTS,

And the sausage fingers.

And the having to pee every 11 minutes.

And the uncontrollable sobbing because there's only one donut left in the box and it looks so lonely and you just wish it had a friend and so you know you have to eat it so it's no longer alone but you're already a fatty fat mcfatty face.

And I look forward to sharing this amazing journey with all of you. Especially those of you who can help chip in for my bail when I finally do lose it and light someone on fire.


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